


When They Confess

by mistleto3



Series: Beginnings [5]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-14 10:31:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10534656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistleto3/pseuds/mistleto3
Summary: The first time Mikoto and Tatara fight, the first time they say "I love you," and the first time Tatara has a bad mental health day around Mikoto.





	1. Conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time they fight, and the first time they say "I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I've left this series without any updates for so long! Other projects have been eating up all my time, but this one's my main focus now until I've completed it, so hopefully new chapters will be more regular. 
> 
> This chapter can also be found on [Tumblr.](http://mistleto-3.tumblr.com/post/159151541259/beginnings-part-7)

“Isn’t that the Red King’s toy boy?”

Tatara felt ice spreading through his chest at the sound of the sneering voice behind him. Instinctively, he sped up to try and put some distance between them, get out of the narrow street and onto one that was more populated where they might be less inclined to attack, but for his efforts he only received another jeer, this time from a different speaker.

“Oi, where do you think you’re going? We’re talking to you.”

“Who’s that? Totsuka, is somethin’ wrong?” came Izumo’s voice from his earphones; Tatara had been talking to him on the phone as he entered the alley he was now walking through.

Before Tatara had a chance to reply, a hand seized his arm roughly and spun him around, and he was faced with a dark haired man with distinctive green eyes and narrow, snake-like pupils. The man was unmistakable- he was a strain who’d been present at a raid Homra had run a few weeks ago, and his gang had been thoroughly beaten and scattered. Tatara didn’t recognise his companion, but judging by the tattoos up and down his arm, it seemed a safe bet to suppose he was another member of the same gang.

“Um, sorry, I don’t know who you’re talking about… I think you have the wrong guy,” Tatara replied, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand sheepishly, trying his best to sound calm.

“Oh really?” the snake-eyed man raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“Oi, the Reds have that tattoo. Look for his,” his companion suggested, and a smirk twisted the strain’s lips. 

“I’m tracking your phone; Mikoto’s on his way,” Izumo whispered from the other end of the line.

Tatara chewed his lip as the companion stepped forward and seized the front of his shirt, tearing it open in one swift movement, and the buttons snapped off the fabric and fell onto the tarmac with a clatter. Tatara held his head high in defiance, but couldn’t hold back a wince as the man pulled his shirt down his arms, and the strain smirked, jabbing a finger into the insignia emblazoned on his shoulder.

 “What do you want to do with him?” the companion asked.

“Let’s bring him back with us. Show that Red King we won’t be pushed around as easy as he thinks.”

The companion chuckled. “What, send him fingers in the mail? That’s a bit cliché isn’t it?”

“They’re dating aren’t they? There’s probably something else the Red King’d rather have.”

Tatara cringed, trying his best not to imagine that in any detail.

As the pair chuckled at their joke, they shoved Tatara forward, dragging him by the grip on his upper arm towards a car parked not far down the road. One of them tore one of the sleeves from Tatara’s shirt and used it to bind his wrists behind his back before shoving him into the back seat.

As the door slammed close, Tatara felt panic rising in his throat, but he tried his best to keep his breathing even, reminding himself that Mikoto was on his way. One of his earphones still dangled from his ear, and he heard Izumo mumble:

“Cough if ya can hear me.”

Obediently, Tatara coughed, thankful that the kidnappers didn’t have the foresight to check if he had a phone.

“Mikoto’s maybe five minutes away. You’ll be alright.”

As Izumo was speaking, the engine of the car rumbled to life, and Tatara was tossed around in the seat as the vehicle pulled off. Through the tinted windows, it was difficult to tell dingy backstreet from dingy backstreet as they drove further from the parts of town Tatara was familiar with. Trying his best to steady his breathing, Tatara squeezed his eyes shut and focused his aura into his fingertips, trying to burn through the fabric that held his wrists.

But his concentration was broken after a few seconds as the driver swore suddenly. “We’ve got a tail,” he spat as he pressed his foot down on the accelerator. From behind them, Tatara could hear the whine of another engine, and he craned his neck to peer into the rear-view mirror, where he spotted a familiar motorcycle- he recognised it as belonging to Rikio, but the figure on the bike was the wrong build.

Suddenly, the car jerked and spun out, coming to a halt as it crashed into a bollard at the side of the road, and the pungent stench of burning rubber blew in through the vents. The impact threw Tatara across the car and he hit his head on the door handle, but he was otherwise unhurt.

With a yell of rage, the strain in the passenger seat pulled a handgun from the glove box of the car and threw open the door to confront the motorcyclist that had pulled up beside him, but his shout quickly turned to a cry of agony as the gun in his hand glowed bright red, and he dropped it into the tarmac, clutching his wrist as he stared at the burned and rapidly blistering skin of his palm, his snake-like eyes wide with shock. The next moment, he was on the ground, knocked to the floor by a swift punch to the side of the head that almost certainly broke his jaw.

Meanwhile, the driver scrambled out of the car in an attempt to make a run for it, but he’d barely gotten six feet before a fireball struck him in between the shoulders, knocking him sprawling onto the pavement. Mikoto strolled over, removing his motorcycle helmet as he went, then pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it with a click of his fingers. When he reached the man lying on the pavement, he picked him up by his throat and stared into his panic-stricken eyes with a blank expression.

“Won’t be pushed around easy, huh?” he said flatly, blowing smoke into the man’s face, then ignited the hand that held him with a blaze of red. Mikoto watched him scream for a moment as the flames ate through his flesh, before he finally dropped him once more.

As Mikoto had dealt with the attackers, Tatara had struggled free of his bindings, snapping the singed fabric and climbing out of the car. The tyres were distorted and still smoking, and the strain with the burned hand had evidently run off as Mikoto had dealt with his friend; he was nowhere to be seen. As soon as the assailant had been discarded onto the ground, Mikoto turned to face Tatara, who ran over and threw himself into his arms, letting out a shaky sigh of relief. Mikoto squeezed him tightly against his chest, the embrace almost seeming to linger a little too long before he finally released his partner, and Tatara thought he could feel him trembling.

“I’m sorry…” Tatara said softly. In truth, he’d known it was a dangerous area of town, and Izumo had repeatedly warned him and the rest of the clan not to go alone through these parts for a while- it had previously been the territory of the gang that Homra had recently broken up, and they wanted to avoid this exact situation- any remaining members launching some kind of revenge attack. Tatara wasn’t sure what it was that possessed him to think it’d be alright, but it was the quickest way home, and it had been a few weeks since the gang had been disbanded. He didn’t think he’d come to any trouble.

Mikoto didn’t respond to his apology, seeming to be gazing into some middle distance above Tatara’s head, but before Tatara could ask if he was okay, a car pulled up beside them and Rikio and Izumo got out, ready to clean up the mess left behind by the short fight.

“You alright?” Izumo asked, approaching the pair standing beside the crashed car. At the sight of Tatara’s torn clothing, his eyes narrowed, and his voice softened as he asked: “They didn’t try to…?”

“Oh, God no. I’m okay; they didn’t hurt me.”

Izumo let out a sigh of relief. “Good... Kamamoto ‘n’ I will deal with all this; you two take the car and head home. You oughta be more careful,” he chided gently.

Tatara nodded, abashed. “Sorry.”

“As long as yer safe. Go on, get outta here.”

As Mikoto turned to leave, Izumo clapped him on the shoulder comfortingly, then watched as he guided Tatara firmly by the shoulder towards the car and drove off.

Mikoto seemed tense the whole ride home; his grip on the gearstick was so tight that his knuckles turned white and his tendons stood pronounced through the skin of the back of his hand, his jaw was clenched tightly, and he was speeding.

He didn’t say a word until he and Tatara were back in his apartment above the bar; Tatara had never seen him like this before. He didn’t usually get so riled up over small scuffles.

“King… I’m sorry,” he repeated. “For getting you dragged into this and making you use your aura…”

Mikoto shook his head stiffly, and Tatara paused; he’d thought it was Mikoto’s powers that were bothering him. He always seemed out of sorts after these kinds of spats- it took a lot of willpower to force his aura back into submission after letting it loose in a bigger fight, and while Mikoto didn’t exactly use a lot of power (he was only up against a human with a handgun and an unarmed strain after all) Tatara had presumed that was why he was acting like this.

There was a long pause, and then Mikoto finally said his first words to Tatara since he’d rescued him: “What’d I do if I lost you?” His voice was low and taut with what almost sounded like… fear. Tatara didn’t think he’d ever seen Mikoto openly afraid before. Of course, he could read him well enough to know when he was scared, but he was the only one who could- his fear was subtle, in the tiny gestures and intonations that nobody else could pick up. This was different- it was like he didn’t even have the strength to keep his usual barriers up. The best he could do was hide it behind a façade of anger, but even that was unconvincing. It still made Tatara flinch though.

“King…” Tatara wasn’t sure what to say, and he reached for Mikoto’s hand, which was curled into a tight fist resting on his knee.

“If you ever got hurt or…” Mikoto trailed off, clearly unable to stomach saying _died,_ “If I get carried away, you’re here to make sure I don’t do somethin’ stupid. What’d I do if you weren’t?”

Tatara didn’t have an answer to that one. He stared down at his shoes guiltily, trying to suppress the wave of nausea rising in his throat.

_If you stay by his side, you won’t live very long._

Normally, Tatara did his best not to think about it- no point wasting the time he had worrying about what would happen when it was over. He couldn’t tell Mikoto he knew his years were limited for that exact reason- he didn’t want to burden Mikoto with the knowledge, or worse, have Mikoto push him away for his own safety. He felt awful for keeping it a secret; the guilt quietly gnawed away at the pit of his stomach every day, but it was far preferable to the alternative. But then things like this happened, and he was confronted with the reality that he tried his best to push to the back of his mind; it dragged all of the things he had gotten very good at not feeling back to the surface. He couldn’t bear to think of what would happen to Mikoto when he was gone. It was too awful to dwell on, too painful.

When Tatara didn’t say anything for a moment, Mikoto continued: “If Kusanagi hadn’t been on the phone…” and then he sighed, deciding he didn’t need to finish that thought. “Please be more careful”

Tatara nodded jerkily, trying to blink away the burning tears welling in his eyes, but despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop them from spilling over his lashes. He could feel his shoulders shaking as his breath caught in his throat, and Mikoto’s stance changed instantly the moment he realised Tatara was crying- the tension in his body melted away, and the anger and fear vanished as Mikoto reached over to draw him into his arms as the first half-stifled sob bubbled past Tatara’s lips.

“I’m s-sorry… I n-never want you to have to lose me…”

Mikoto rubbed his shoulders in soothing circles as he held him, screwing his eyes shut. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice sounding subdued.

“For what?”

“Getting mad. I obviously scared you.”

“N-no, it’s okay. You were frightened; that’s alright. You’re right. I should be more careful.”

And Mikoto _was_ right- even if Tatara’s time was limited, there was no need to squander some of the precious little he had left by being careless.

Mikoto let out a long sigh, then laid back heavily on the mattress, seeming drained, and Tatara tucked himself beneath his arm, cuddling up tightly to his side. As he did so, he took a few deep, steady breaths, trying to stem the flow of tears. He felt Mikoto subtly draw him closer protectively, then lean down to press a kiss to his forehead.

Tatara wished more than anything that his protectiveness was enough to keep him safe, but it seemed even all the power of the Red King couldn’t stop fate. Even lying like this, soaking in the warmth of Mikoto’s body, he couldn’t quite force himself to be at peace. It was difficult to reassure himself that he was making the right choice in all this- he knew logically that if he left Mikoto now it would ruin them both, and he couldn’t leave Mikoto behind to wonder what he did wrong, to be without his stopper. In all likelihood, it wouldn’t save anyone- Mikoto would just lose control of his powers and burn himself up, maybe even end up like the last Red King if there was nobody around to stop him. But wasn’t he just putting off the inevitable by prolonging this? Surely it would be even worse when he was dead?

Tatara wasn’t sure what would hurt Mikoto more- him dying while the two were still in love, or him simply running off and leaving Mikoto to tear himself to pieces wondering what he did to drive him away. Not that Tatara even _wanted_ to leave- he’d rather live a short life but spend it with Mikoto and with his clan than live a long life alone. There was really nothing to be done at this point other than enjoy the time he had. In a way, knowing it was limited made it precious- he savoured every second he spent in Mikoto’s company, every touch of his hand, every kiss, every night he got to fall asleep beside him and every morning he got to wake up in his arms. But there was still the bitter guilt that lingered in the back of his throat, the fear that he was being selfish for letting things get this far.

But ultimately, there was nothing he could do about it now, so he resolved to put it out of his mind. With a sigh, he rolled on top of Mikoto to kiss him softly, and at the feeling of those strong arms wrapping around his waist to hold him tightly, he suddenly felt safe, the sensation rolling through him and quieting his worry almost instantly.

Tatara thought, if he could just stay like this forever, wrapped up in Mikoto’s arms, he’d never have to be afraid of anything.

* * *

 

Tatara woke the next morning to find he’d fallen asleep like that, fully clothed and lying on Mikoto’s chest, and Mikoto’s eyes were already open- he was stroking Tatara’s hair absentmindedly, staring at the ceiling, appearing deep in thought about something. However, when Tatara shifted and yawned on top of him, it seemed to snap him out of the trance he was in, and he looked down at his partner.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled, and instantly Tatara picked up that there was something off about him- his tone was subdued, and there was a disconcerting blank look in his eyes.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nightmare,” Mikoto admitted, seemingly reluctantly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” There was a pause, and then Mikoto added: “Pretty much the same as usual.”

Tatara nodded, rolling off of him to cuddle up to his side and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “It’s okay.”

“…Sorry for gettin’ mad last night.”

Tatara sighed. “It’s okay. You were just frightened; I understa-…”

“It’s not okay,” Mikoto cut in, and there was a sharpness to his voice that Tatara had never heard before.

“King…”

The stiffness in his body had his muscles pulled so taut he was shaking slightly, cringing almost imperceptibly away from Tatara’s touch, as though…

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“King, you’re not some abuser who shouts at me all the time. You were tense because you were frightened for my safety; why would I be scared of you for that?”

“You almost got kidnapped ‘cause of me.”

“I almost got kidnapped because of some dumb thugs who wanted a cheap shot at Homra and I was an easy target.”

“Kusanagi told me what he heard over the phone.”

“It wasn’t personal. They probably would have done the same if they found any member of Homra they thought they could take on. They had a grudge against us as a clan because we shut down their operation.”

“They woulda mutilated you.”

“But they didn’t. You found me.”

“If Kusanagi hadn’t been on the phone-…”

“But he was. There’s no good dwelling on what-ifs. I’m safe, okay? And I’m safe _because_ of you and because you’re here to protect me, not _in spite_ of you. I could never be scared of you.”

“I’ve seen you in hospital enough times, just don’t wanna see you there again.”

“I know…” Tatara’s gaze dropped guiltily, and he sighed.

“I hate it when you’re hurt.”

“I know.”

“…I love you.”

Tatara froze for a moment, feeling his heartbeat stutter in his chest in shock. Mikoto had never said that to him before- those words in _his voice,_ deep and gruff but tender at the same time, knocked the wind out of Tatara’s lungs. It took a moment before he came back to himself enough to be able to move, and his gaze snapped to Mikoto’s face. There was a subtle softness to his expression, concern and protectiveness mixed with affection that nobody but Tatara would have picked up on, written into the curve of the lines on his skin. The look in his eyes made Tatara’s pulse flutter once more, and he felt as though his emotions were overflowing, filling up his ribcage with light until there was no more space inside him and he was sure he would burst. His head was spinning at a thousand miles an hour, and his thoughts blurred into one another until he could barely make sense of them. He didn’t notice his eyes had brimmed with tears until his vision blurred and Mikoto swam out of focus, and as he tried to blink them away, they trickled down onto his cheeks.

It didn’t feel real. Even after the couple of months they’d been “official,” he was still having trouble processing the idea that Mikoto really felt the same way. Sometimes he was still surprised to wake up beside him, surprised when he leaned in for a kiss, and it would take him a moment to remember that yes, Mikoto really was his boyfriend. So this was too much, too good to be true.

It _was_ real, though. The words echoed in his head far too loudly for this just to be a dream. Instantly, the fear and worry from before were swept out of Tatara’s head, and there was nothing else but the imprint of those words on his brain, every detail branded irrevocably onto his memory.  

It took a long moment before Tatara could remember how to work his lungs to be able to reply, and his voice was shaky with tears of joy as he whispered: “I love you too.”

As Mikoto drew Tatara into his arms and held him tightly against his chest, Tatara realised he’d never said anything truer in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Tatara has a bad mental health day around Mikoto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter can also be found on [Tumblr.](http://mistleto-3.tumblr.com/post/159344780899/beginnings-part-8)

Tatara was normally pretty good at staying positive, but occasionally, it’d get just a little too difficult to keep up that smile every hour of every day. Usually, it was no problem- he’d just stay home, curled up under the covers where none of his friends had to see him without his usual reckless optimism, then give himself a day to sleep it off.

Unfortunately, this one struck when he’d stayed over at Mikoto’s, and there was nowhere for him to hide. For the couple of days after he’d almost been kidnapped, Mikoto had wanted to keep him close; although he’d hidden it well, he was evidently still a little shaken by the near miss, and Tatara was more than happy to oblige him, basking in the glow of that first “I love you.” But the sound of those words had only been able to hold back the quiet guilt for so long before it resurfaced once more, no matter how hard Tatara tried to conceal it.

When he woke up, the room was still dark- it was still the early hours of the morning, before the first rays of dawn had begun to creep above the silhouette of the city. Tatara’s cheeks were damp, and when he rolled over to check the time, he had to blink away the tears before the glowing numbers were legible. Just after 4am.

He inhaled deeply, trying to calm his jagged breathing and racing heartbeat. He didn’t even remember what the nightmare he’d had had been about, but there was a crushing ache deep behind his ribs that felt something like loneliness, or like the fear of being lost. He glanced over at Mikoto, who was still blessedly asleep, then slowly extricated himself from the arm draped across his waist and tiptoed over to the bathroom. Once the door was closed, he let out a quiet, shaky sigh, trying to swallow back the tears he could feel forming a lump in his throat. Hurriedly, he kicked off the pyjamas he’d borrowed from Mikoto and climbed into the shower, turned on the hot water, then sat down in the tub with his knees pulled up to his chest.

The bad days had gotten a little less frequent since he and Mikoto had gotten together- it had been nearly two months now, and this was the first one he’d had. Back then, his usual preoccupation during those days was the fear that his feelings for Mikoto might ruin their friendship and push him away. That was the worst thing he could imagine; Mikoto had been the only thing in his life that had ever felt permanent, that had ever given him purpose. Before they met, he’d been adrift, with nothing more than the fleeting interests that only occupied him for a few weeks at a time before his passion for them burned out and he was left in the dark once more. Mikoto was the light for him- the moment they met, he knew this was the most important person he’d ever encounter. And it was because of Mikoto that all the people he cared about had come into his life. Izumo, Anna, Misaki, Rikio, _everyone_ in Homra… they were his family, his permanent sources of joy and warmth and light and it had all started with Mikoto.

It was difficult not to be afraid that he would lose that; he’d lost every other family he’d had. His birth parents had told him to “wait right here,” and then never came back for him. His adoptive mother left him. His adoptive father was hardly ever around, swept up in a gambling addiction he couldn’t break free of, and then he’d died while Tatara was just a teenager.

But Tatara had never been bitter about this- he bore no ill will towards the people who had abandoned him. He was even grateful for it at times. There were things he never would have learned if it weren’t for the hardships of his childhood, and he was far more appreciative of the people he loved now because of the ones he’d lost in the past. He wasn’t even particularly sad about those losses. Bad things happen, and there was no point in dwelling on things he couldn’t do anything about, or allowing them to hurt him when they were in the past.

At least, that’s what he told himself. But every so often, on days like this, he wouldn’t quite believe his own mantra. It was hard not to blame himself on those days. Perhaps the reason he’d been abandoned all those times was because a cold-hearted person like him wasn’t worth keeping around, said the little voices in the back of his head. He did his best to quash them, but it didn’t always work. Those intrusive thoughts were partly why he’d never really gotten attached to anything before; if he didn’t feel that attachment, it wouldn’t hurt so much when he inevitably lost whatever it was, just like he lost everything else he cared about.

_I’m not really an optimist at all. Is it really optimistic to say “it’s fine, it’s fine, everything will turn out okay” when, for you, having nothing at all is okay?_

That was why being so attached to Mikoto was frightening. He’d never felt like this about _anything_ before. And to know Mikoto felt the same way was… even more frightening still.

Because he knew he was going to abandon him, just like he’d been abandoned time and time again.

He knew he was being selfish, choosing to act as though nothing had happened when Anna had given him that revelation. He knew Mikoto needed him, or rather, the beast within him needed a tamer, and that had been the excuse Tatara had made for himself that he could pass off as selfless. But it was a lie. In reality, he just didn’t want to go back to living without that light. When the alternative was leaving Mikoto, abandoning him without him ever knowing why, and going back to being alone… dying young was preferable. Tatara had never feared death, but living without Mikoto was terrifying, especially now he’d heard him, a man who never bared his feelings to anyone, tell him he loved him.  

At least if Tatara died, Mikoto wouldn’t blame him for leaving him.

A sob bubbled up Tatara’s throat, dislodging the lump that had clogged it, and suddenly the tears flowed freely again. Tatara sat beneath the water pouring down his back, clutching his knees to his chest, until his breathing steadied and his tears ran dry and the shaking in his limbs slowed enough for him to clamber back to his feet and turn off the water.

The mirror was encrusted with beads of condensation, so Tatara couldn’t see how bad he looked, but the skin on his chest burned an angry dark pink colour from where the water, turned up far too hot, had irritated it. With a sigh, he wrapped a towel around himself, then blew his nose and splashed his face with cold water to try and calm the inevitable swelling under his eyes, just in case Mikoto was awake.

Once he’d dried himself, he donned the borrowed pyjamas once more and stepped out into the bedroom. As a bar of light poured in from the bathroom door, it illuminated Mikoto’s silhouette, sitting up with the sheets pooled around his waist. Tatara felt a meek twinge of guilt at the sight of him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah… just had a nightmare.”

Mikoto patted the mattress beside him, and Tatara obediently shuffled over and sat down beside him.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t remember much of it… Just woke up scared of losing you.” It wasn’t quite a lie.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

_It’s not you I’m worried about._

Tatara nodded stiffly, leaning his head against Mikoto’s shoulder. The warmth of his skin was comforting as he slid his arm around Tatara’s waist, but it was accompanied by another twinge of guilt.

_What happens when it’s him that wakes up from a nightmare, and I’m not here?_

He knew the answer to that, and the thought made his stomach turn, so he put it out of his mind.  

“It’ll all turn out okay,” he said softly, more to himself than to Mikoto, but there was no conviction in his voice. He sounded odd, even to himself.

“Will you be able to sleep?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Need anything?”

“A hug.”

Obediently, Mikoto wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled him in close, and Tatara buried his face in his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of cigarette smoke that clung to his skin as he tried to lose himself in the present.


End file.
